


Rumination in the Dark

by SD_Ryan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to write fluffy happy mormor, JFC, M/M, Masochism, Not Beta Read, and this is what came out, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_Ryan/pseuds/SD_Ryan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always going to end badly, isn't it? In the mean time, they have Jim's bed and some long nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumination in the Dark

Some nights, Jim crawls into bed silently fuming, blood on his hands belonging to some schmuck he’s beaten to a pulp. Seb can see even that release wasn’t enough to quiet the thoughts scratching like dirty, blistered rats in Jim’s head. These nights, Seb knows what Jim needs, and he’s happy to provide. Jim always talks about what a mouth his boy’s got on him (and he’s not just referring to Seb’s stellar cock-sucking abilities). No, Seb’s true talent is in knowing exactly the words to make Jim see red. He picks and he pushes—inching his way into old feuds and sounding sour notes of antagonism—until the boss is spitting with rage and the blows rain down. Seb takes it all with a smile, knowing bruised ribs and cracked teeth are worth it, if only Jim can extinguish that fire for a time.

 

Some nights, Jim doesn’t come to bed at all. Most nights, really. Seb finds him in the morning, eyes sunken and hollow, fingers ticking out some invisible tally. Then his gaze will land on Seb and the morning's work can begin. Or he won’t see a thing, and it’s crumbling castles in the clouds all day.

 

Some nights, Jim comes to bed with a prop and a plan, and Seb knows he’ll resist at first, but in the end this is Jim, and he’s always game. Silk stockings or a giant purple dildo. A tight-bodied rent boy or Seb’s prized collection of knives. A pair of gold dice or a set of barber’s shears. Jim’s nothing if not creative, and these are always good nights. Not the best nights, but close.

 

Some nights, Seb decides he’s had enough, and he’s the one who stays away. Morning finds him cramped and aching in the bathtub, empty bottle of Jameson in hand.

 

Some nights, Jim makes his way into bed like a whisper and a sigh. He slides under sheets and into Seb’s arms, naked, silent, and trembling. Jim clutches at him like there’s nothing, _nothing_ in the world that matters more, while Seb holds him and strokes his hair, saying everything with his hands that he can’t manage with words. If he was the kind of man to share such a thing, he’d say these were the best nights. A wiser man might say they’re the worst, but when it comes to Jim, Seb has never been a wise man.

**Author's Note:**

> For thelittlemagpiemurderer who is having a rough time and asked for something happy. I'm so sorry. Like really sorry. Clearly I can't do Mormor fluff.
> 
> Also dedicated to BasherMoriarty, who I promised a little ficlet I wasn't ever able to bring into the world. But I've been wanting to write something for you, my darling, and you were deep in my thoughts as this came out.


End file.
